“Phoebe just heard about the Christmas Angel. The shock made her faint.” Cecily watched anxiously as the doctor lifted one of Phoebe’s limp arms and took out his pocket watch.
“Pulse is normal,” he announced, after a tense moment or two of silence. “I wish I had smelling salts with me.” His glance fell on the glass. “Is that brandy?”
Cecily handed it to him. “I thought it might revive her.”
The doctor tilted Phoebe’s head back. Holding her nose, he tipped the glass to let the liquid run into her open mouth.
Phoebe coughed, spluttered, and sat up. “What are you doing?” She glared at the doctor. “Are you trying to choke me?”
Kevin handed the glass back to Cecily. “She’ll be all right. Now, where’s my wife? She said she’d be ready to come home by now.”
“I’m right here.” Madeline appeared as if by magic in the hallway entrance. “What’s this I hear about Colonel Fortescue missing?”
Cecily sighed. Apparently Pansy had not been discreet in her search. “We’re a little concerned, since no one has seen him all afternoon. Gertie found his walking stick in the woods on Putney Downs.”
Phoebe moaned again, but this time managed to hold on to her senses. “Poor, poor Freddie. Whatever am I going to do without him?”
“I’m sure nothing dreadful has happened to him,” Cecily assured her, being sure of no such thing. “Perhaps he got tired of waiting for you and went home?”
Phoebe’s face turned red with indignation. “Frederick would never go home without me. Even if he had, which is ridiculous to even imagine, he certainly wouldn’t walk through the woods to get there. What on earth was he doing in the woods, anyway?”
“We don’t know that he was in the woods. We only know his walking stick was found there.” Cecily looked at Madeline for help. “Someone could have stolen it and taken it there.”
“He had it with him when we got here this afternoon.” Phoebe started crying. “I know he’s dead. That dreadful murderer has killed him.”
“He’s not dead.” Madeline’s voice echoed clearly across the foyer.
Everyone turned to look at her. Cecily caught her breath at the sight of Madeline’s face, eyes wide and glazed over, her expression completely blank.
Cecily stole a look at Kevin. He was staring at his wife as if he didn’t recognize her. Undoubtedly this was the first time he’d seen her in a trance. Up until now, Madeline had always been careful to conceal that element of her powers from him.
Cecily felt a warm rush of gratitude for her friend. Phoebe would never know the sacrifice Madeline had made to help her.
Madeline spoke again, her voice flat and unemotional. “He’s cold. Very cold. He’s frightened. All alone in the dark. Trees all around, bushes… cold and damp. He’s in the woods.”
“I told you so.” Gertie spoke from the hallway, startling them all.
Madeline blinked, and glanced at her husband.
Phoebe stopped crying and reached for the doctor’s hand. “Please, find him for me?”
Kevin seemed not to hear her. He was still staring at Madeline with a strange look on his face that made Cecily nervous. This latest revelation concerning his wife would not sit well with him.
Cecily had not seen Clive standing behind Gertie until he stepped forward. “I’ll be happy to search for the colonel, m’m.”
Kevin jumped, as if suddenly gathering his senses. “Good man. I have a carriage outside. We’ll take that.”
“On your way out, Clive, tell Samuel to take the footmen out to help.” Cecily held out her hand to Madeline. “Thank you,” she said quietly, hoping her friend understood how much she meant it.
Madeline grasped her hand and gave it a little shake. “I know they will find him,” she said to Phoebe, who sat rocking back and forth on her chair.
For once Phoebe didn’t retaliate with a scornful dismissal of Madeline’s powers. Instead, she looked up at her, tears once more trickling down her cheeks. “I hope so,” she whispered.
“I’ll talk to you later,” Kevin said, giving his wife a penetrating look before striding out the door with Clive right behind him.
Cecily watched them leave, praying they’d return with the colonel, safe and sound.
“Clive feels really awful,” Gertie said, when Cecily turned to face her. “He heard someone crashing around in the woods while we were out there. He said he thought it was the Christmas Angel and that’s why he rushed us out of there, but now he thinks it might have been the colonel. He’ll know where to look, so I’m sure he’ll find him.”
“Oh, my poor Freddie.” Phoebe sought for a handkerchief in her sleeve, produced a dainty lace-edged one, and dabbed at her nose.
Gertie dragged a man’s white handkerchief from her apron pocket and flapped it at Phoebe. “Here, you can’t blow your nose on that flipping thing. Use this and have a bloody good snort.”
Cecily winced, expecting the distraught woman to scream in outrage.
Phoebe surprised her, however. She took the handkerchief without a word, dangling it from the tips of her fingers to inspect it thoroughly. Having apparently deemed it suitable to use, she heartily blew her nose.
Gertie beamed. “There, now. Doesn’t that feel better?”
“Thank you,” Phoebe answered stiffly, and handed the handkerchief back to her.
Stuffing it back in her pocket, Gertie looked at Pansy. “Come on, mate. We’ve got to get back to the kitchen before Chubby starts bellowing for us.”
She stomped off with Pansy following meekly behind.
“We’ll go up to the suite to wait,” Cecily said, helping Phoebe up from her chair. She turned to Madeline. “Would you like to wait with us?”
“I might as well.” Madeline glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner. “I could walk home, I suppose, but by the time I arrived there, Kevin will probably be back here with the carriage.”
“Oh, I hope so.” Phoebe clung to Cecily’s arm and looked down her nose at Madeline. “I hope for once your ridiculous hocus-pocus works.”
Madeline seemed not to take offense. “So do I.” She started climbing the stairs, saying over her shoulder, “The colonel may be as daffy as a duck but he turned you into an almost normal, decent human being. I dread to think what you’d become without him.”
Phoebe sniffed. “How in heaven’s name would you know what constitutes a normal human being?”
Cecily smiled. Phoebe was once more feuding with Madeline. Her friend was feeling better. Now, if only the colonel were to return with Kevin and Clive, everything would be almost normal again. Almost.
“What?” Mrs. Chubb dropped her rolling pin onto the table and slapped a floury hand across her mouth. “Why didn’t anyone tell me about all these killings?”
“Because no one was supposed to know,” Pansy said in a small voice.
Across the room, Michel slammed a saucepan down with a mighty crash. “Sacre bleu! What ees this world coming to, eh? Murderers running around willy-nilly, chopping off ze heads like chickens?”
Gertie gave him a scathing look. “Well, you needn’t worry. He only kills men.”
The chef’s tall hat wobbled back and forth as he shook a finger at her. “None of your sauce, cochon. I will not stand for it.”
“Who cares where you bloody stand, as long as it’s not next to me.”
“Gertie!” Mrs. Chubb removed her hand, leaving a white mustache and beard of flour on her face. “That’s enough!”
“All right, all right, keep your bloody socks on.” Gertie walked over to the sink and picked up a potato from the pile on the draining board.
“So how long ago did Clive and Dr. Prestwick leave to look for the colonel?” Mrs. Chubb demanded. “How will they know where to look? He could be anywhere.”
“The man is an idiot.” Michel slapped a lid on the saucepan so hard it bounced off and clattered to the floor. Cursing, he bent to retrieve it. “If you ask me, he should be locked up where he does no harm, oui?”